


assigned mourning

by oddysseeus



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Five Stages of Grief, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Night Vale, hoshi is soft, jun is [redacted], wonwoo is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-15 02:08:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14149629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddysseeus/pseuds/oddysseeus
Summary: a stranger dies. wonwoo feels it all.//inspired by this tweet:@NightValeRadioWhen a person dies and no one will miss them, the mourning is assigned to a random human. This is why sometimes you just feel sad.11/12/12, 8:33AM.





	assigned mourning

**Author's Note:**

> \--- 180317 ---
> 
> didn't tag for major character death, but there is a character whom is dead, if that's not your thing.  
> i had the idea as soon as i saw the tweet. i figured i'd write this story after finishing up my works in progress but i am never on schedule for anything so whatever.  
> writing this was my little birthday present to myself. i hope you enjoy it as well.

0\. loss

 

His chest deflated. The air felt heavy, unable to fill up his lungs again. His eyes prickled, his blinking accelerating. The whole room felt much hotter all of a sudden, and before he could understand what was happening, it hit him where it hurt.

He fell off his chair, the sound alerting the professor and students around him. He didn’t notice; tears were coming out of his eyes, a broken dam and its newfound liberty. Sobs escaped his mouth involuntarily, and, curling himself up in a ball, he felt a pair of hands on his back, shaking his shoulders lightly.

The words never reached his ears, yet he followed the voice out of the classroom, held up by his friend’s arms around him. In the hallway, his legs gave out, the need to forget about the world and his own self stronger than his will to keep going. His back against a locker, he wrapped his arms around his knees and let the tears flow again.

His friend sat down in front of him, taking his hands in his own. “Wonwoo,” he muttered, “Wonu, what’s wrong?”

Wonwoo gathered his words, spewing them back up, interrupted by violent sobs. “I lost him,” he croaked, looking into Soonyoung’s eyes. They were frantic, trying to figure out what happened to his dearest friend, while Wonwoo’s eyes were nothing but a watery mess and despair beyond possibility. “I lost him.”

“Who?” Soonyoung asked, tilting his head. Wonwoo shook his. “Who did you lose, Wonwoo?” He repeated, tightening his hold on his crying friend’s hands. “Who?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

 

 

1\. denial

 

Wonwoo never thought a person could feel hollow. Until it happened to him, emptied out of everything attaching him to the ground, to humanity. He was left on his bed weeping, his insides carved out, the void in himself burning the little that remained.

 _What is happening to me?_ He kept asking. _Why is this happening? And who is making me this way?_

No one answered.

Someone started pounding at the door again. He knew who was the culprit, but he didn’t make a move to invite him in. He didn’t want to see anyone. He didn’t have anything to say. He only had these feelings drowning him, then throwing him back up to the surface to better drag him further down.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung’s muffled voice called. “I called Mingyu and he’s bringing his old key. I’m coming in whether you want me to or not. I know you’re here; you haven’t left in two days. You need to eat, Wonwoo. You’re making me worried.”

Soonyoung didn’t need to worry about him. He shouldn’t be loosing sleep over him, coming at midnight to his dorm and knocking every hour of the day in hope Wonwoo would open up. He needed to go to sleep instead of bothering with him. There was nothing wrong with Wonwoo anyway. He was only feeling a bit sad for no reason. Soonyoung shouldn’t worry. There was nothing wrong.

Some time later – Wonwoo didn’t feel the need to track down seconds anymore – he could hear Mingyu’s voice from outside the door. He too seemed worried, asking Soonyoung if he could help with anything. “I don’t even know what to do to help. I just want to talk with him. I’ll tell you if there’s anything. Just let me in.”

It didn’t take long for his old roommate to betray him, unlocking the door for the desperate Soonyoung. He uttered a quick thank you, Mingyu throwing him the key before glancing at Wonwoo on his bed and closing the door to give them privacy, leaving the way he came.

Soonyoung’s eyes met his. He looked angry at him, debating whether he should yell at Wonwoo for not taking care of himself, for not giving him any clue about how he was, or give him the silent treatment instead. His gaze softened, and he sat down on the bed, his fingers picking at the covers. He could never stay mad at Wonwoo.

“I was worried, Wonu.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” His fingers reached Soonyoung’s, wrapping themselves around his, a silent apology. “But really, you shouldn’t worry. I’m fine. I promise.”

“You’ve never been a good liar,” Soonyoung scoffed, the slightest smile making its way up his lips. “And I can’t help it anyway.”

He got up, Wonwoo’s fingers aching at the loss.

“I brought chicken nuggets,” he said, crouching to his backpack and getting out a McDonalds paper bag and a newspaper. “I know it’s not the healthiest thing, but you need to have something in your system.”

“I’m not hungry, Soon.”

“And I’m not asking.”

Wonwoo rolled out of bed, sitting on the floor next to Soonyoung. His friend waved a nugget in front of his mouth, and he reluctantly opened it, letting Soonyoung feed him. If it stopped him from worrying, Wonwoo wouldn’t hesitate.

“Good boy,” Soonyoung giggled, Wonwoo’s chest cavity slowly filling back up.

Shoulder to shoulder, they ate together, grown man Wonwoo feeding himself while Soonyoung was busy munching on fries. He felt a lot better now, with a friend by his side. It made all the difference in the world, and this pain destroying him from the inside wasn’t as strong when Soonyoung laughed beside him. He had just been a bit sad for a while. They had both worried for nothing. Everything was fine.

“What’s the journal for?” He asked while Soonyoung threw their garbage in the trash, grabbing the newspaper, thinner than he would have expected. Only a few pages were left in.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Soonyoung stuttered, hand behind his neck. “I wanted to help. You said you lost someone, but you didn’t tell me who. I only wanted to help. I didn’t know what to do, so I checked the obituaries. Please don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad? I’m all good. It was just a random breakdown,” he explained, trying to convince his friend. The people’s pictures printed on the page looked back at him, their smiles hiding the painful truth of their lost existence.

“No one hides in their room for two days because of a _random_ occurrence, Wonwoo.”

“Really, it’s fine. I didn’t lose anyone. I don’t know why I said that.”

Someone caught his eye. A young man in graduation cap, smiling brighter than any of those old people next to his picture. Too young to be in this section of the newspaper. Eyes turning into crescents, styled hair exposing his forehead, nose crunched up with happiness.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung muttered, thumbs travelling down Wonwoo’s face. He hadn’t realised tears had left his eyes, too focused on the picture of a boy too happy to be real, to young to die. Soonyoung wiped the tears away, but they kept coming down, unable to be stopped.

Wen Junhui, his name read under the picture. Wonwoo had his answer now.

 

 

 

2\. anger

 

Wonwoo didn’t want to be at the library. The library was for reading and enjoying words, not cramming your brain with useless knowledge you’d forget after the exam anyway. But Soonyoung liked the quiet atmosphere, and, as he told Wonwoo, _if I do this at home I won’t do it at all_. Which was a solid argument, but still, Wonwoo didn’t want to be there.

“You look tense,” Soonyoung whispered next to him, elbowing him in the ribs. “Everything alright?”

 _No_ , Wonwoo wanted to say. _Nothing’s alright._

The emptiness taking over him at the beginning of the week had slowly made way for other emotions to take control. If he could feel nothing and be a mess earlier, he was now the polar opposite; trying his best to stay balanced, while feeling everything at once. Absolutely everything. He thought nothingness was exhausting, but apparently, it was merely the tip of the iceberg.

It was all Wen Junhui’s fault. Why did he have to die and place Wonwoo in the most uncomfortable position? Did Wonwoo know him from before, and Junhui decided to execute revenge on him for forgetting? It seemed unlikely. Wonwoo wouldn’t have forgotten a face like Junhui’s. But the possibility of it all was one of the many reasons Wonwoo’s blood boiled every time he thought of him, a ghost torturing his innocent soul.

He tried looking him up. Google failed him, and so did Facebook, then Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, and, getting desperate, LinkedIn. The guy was nowhere. Maybe he didn’t like social media. But no mention of his name anywhere, except the online journal’s obituary. An obituary that mentioned no friends, no family, no funeral home. Only a tombstone location.

Did no one care? Did no one know? How could no one know of him? Someone had to take that graduation picture. Someone had to be behind the camera to make him smile like that. Where were they? Why weren’t they mentioned? Why weren’t they grieving him? Why wasn’t anyone? Why did Wonwoo have to do everything himself?

“Wonwoo?” Soonyoung shook his shoulder lightly, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, just not into studying right now.”

“Are you okay? We can go talk somewhere else after, if you need—”

“No, it’s fine.” Wonwoo shut his textbook, gathering his things into his bag. It felt a bit like betrayal, the way Soonyoung preferred finishing homework rather than care about him. It was selfish to feel this way, but Wonwoo had lost control over his emotions. They were much stronger, and right now, deceit had taken the wheels. “I need to take a walk.”

“Wonu, what—”

“Look, you can keep studying however long you want, but I’ll be going, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Wonwoo grabbed his stuff, walking away from him. He wanted to be alone, well, he didn’t really want that, but Soonyoung obviously had different priorities. He’d have to do with being alone. It would be easier anyway, not having to explain whatever was going on with him. He couldn’t put words on it. It would come out wrong. He didn’t want to talk. He’d rather scream.

As he got out of the library, a hand grabbed his wrist, making him stop in his tracks and forcefully turn around.

“You need to talk, so we’ll talk,” Soonyoung said, looking at Wonwoo’s face for any explanation on his behaviour. He was one of the only people who could truly read him, but this time, he came up empty. A barrier of miscommunication between them signed Wen Junhui, and none knew how to tear it down.

“And you clearly don’t. Focus on your studies, Soon. I don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Soonyoung objected, frowning. “I can’t focus if you’re being like this.”

“So what, now it’s all my fault?” Wonwoo hissed, louder than he had intended. His friend stepped back, and he was washed away by instant regret.

“Hey, Wonu,” Soonyoung murmured, getting closer and placing a hand over Wonwoo’s arm. He could read what went wrong now. “Don’t blame yourself. None of it is your fault.”

“Then…” Wonwoo breathed. The air felt heavier around him, just like it did days ago. His eyes started prickling again, but this time, he fought harder to keep them in. For Soonyoung. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Soonyoung looked up to him, and he too had something in his eyes. Seeing his friend so worried, sad for him, hurt much more than Junhui did. “I don’t know, Wonwoo. I wish I did.”

Wonwoo wished he did, too. Maybe then, Soonyoung wouldn’t worry. Maybe then, he’d smile instead of cry.

Wonwoo engulfed his shorter friend into a hug. He wasn’t very good at expressing gratitude, so he hoped this would be enough. Soonyoung gave into his touch, arms wrapping neatly around Wonwoo’s torso. It felt nice. Bittersweet, but healing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know either. We’ll figure it out.”

 

 

 

3\. bargaining

 

Wonwoo didn’t think phone booths still existed in this day and age. He almost did a double take seeing one in the middle of the sidewalk. He was glad he almost did, because a quick glance back to the booth made him notice the yellow book resting under the machine. Which spurred a great idea.

“That idea being…stealing it?”

“No,” Wonwoo sighed. He wasn’t a criminal. This was merely borrowing without asking. “The idea is finding him with it. Not…him, I mean, you know. His family. If he has one,” he mumbled the last part. He hoped he was wrong.

Soonyoung was far from convinced, eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought. He seemed to be thinking too much these days. Wonwoo wished he could do something about it, but his brain didn’t leave much place for anything other than rage and sadness and everything and nothing at once. “Wonwoo,” he muttered. “They don’t know you. You don’t even know him. Leave them be.”

“Soon,” he said in the same tone. “I can’t sit around and do nothing. I just…can’t.” He looked up to Soonyoung, sat on his desk, still frowning. He was tired, Wonwoo could tell. Yet he remained by his side as long as he could. He had always been a selfless kid. Maybe a bit too much. “I know I don’t know him, but he’s on my mind. All the time.” Soonyoung looked away. Wonwoo wished he could read his mind. “I need to figure this out. I need to.”

Soonyoung got up from Wonwoo’s desk, grabbing his coat on the chair. “I’ll give you some privacy, then. Don’t say anything stupid, they’re hurting too. Call me when you’re done.”

Before he could go any further, Wonwoo grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. He felt Soonyoung’s eyes on him, but didn’t look up. “Thank you.”

Soonyoung gave him a light squeeze back, then let go, leaving Wonwoo alone in his room. He missed him already.

He opened the yellow pages to the ‘W’ section, phone in hand. He was never a fan of calling people; it made his stomach turn and his mind go blank, messy words reaching the end of the line. For Junhui, he would at least try.

Somehow, somewhere, a man named Wen Junhui put his trust in him. Wonwoo couldn’t let it go to waste.

He was lucky; there were very few Wen in town. The first two calls left him with the dreaded ‘ _Wrong number_ ’, but the third and final name on the list held a bit more faith. Not for long, though.

A man answered, and Wonwoo asked if he was related to Wen Junhui. The man misunderstood, it seemed, for he started calling him Junhui and switching to Mandarin. Wonwoo tried to right his wrong, saying he was a friend of his, but he soon figured out it was pointless.

“I’m a friend of Junhui’s,” he said.

“Who’s Junhui?” The man replied.

He hung up.

Two possibilities remained. One, he had called a confused man who didn’t know Junhui at all. Two, he had called a confused man who knew Junhui, but couldn’t remember him. Two possibilities remained, and none gave Wonwoo a positive conclusion.

Junhui had no one to remember him. He was completely and utterly left alone, and he died next to no one. And only Wonwoo knew.

 

\---

 

Wonwoo wasn’t paying attention to the movie. Soonyoung had invited him later to his dorm to watch something and take his mind off everything; unsurprisingly, it didn’t work in the slightest. The popcorn tasted like burnt regret. He could see the images on the screen scroll past his eyes, but they wouldn’t connect. They were flashing lights burning his retina, and nothing made sense anymore.

“I should have tried to find him sooner,” he mumbled, and Soonyoung put the movie on pause. He wasn’t really watching it either, attentive to Wonwoo’s every shift, body or mind. “I should have been a friend to him. Maybe if he had a friend—”

“Stop, Wonu.” Soonyoung put his hand over his. They were warm and greasy from the popcorn. They didn’t care. “Don’t start saying things like that, Wonu. Don’t think things like these. You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I can’t stop thinking, Soon,” Wonwoo whimpered. He would throw his brain away if he could. It pained him to think of the black and white smile of a boy no longer here. “He was our age, born the same year. He was in the same city we are in. He might have walked the same halls. And I didn’t notice. I could have—”

“There was nothing you could have done, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung chided, grabbing him by the shoulders. Wonwoo didn’t want to look at him, but he needed to get this through his stubborn, broken head. “Nothing. This isn’t on you. It isn’t.”

“I could have tried,” he sniffed, his breath shaky. “Just tried.”

“You didn’t know. You couldn’t know.”

“I hate feeling like this, Soonyoung.” His hands turned to fists, anger coming back to him through his tired state. Soonyoung’s hands left his shoulders and cupped his hands, his thumbs tracing circles over his skin.

“I know, Wonwoo. I hate it too.”

 

 

 

4\. depression

 

Wonwoo was never afraid of death. Death only meant an end. It shouldn’t have been so feared; everything ended. The world moved on. The world ended every day. It kept turning, and it would turn until the last time it would end.

He never had to think about it. Both his parents were alive. He had never met his grandparents, dead before he was born. His friends were all healthy and thriving. He never even had a childhood pet to mourn. Death had never been in his life. Which was why it was easy to classify it as an end, rather than a suffering.

Junhui had died, and nothing felt the same. He would cry himself to sleep over someone he had never met. He would spend his days looking out the window, trying to find a trace of him somewhere. He would wander around campus mindlessly, looking at the people walking by, wondering if they could have been Junhui’s friends too. He wondered, he kept wondering. As if thinking would make him alive again. It didn’t matter. Junhui was dead.

Soonyoung was knocking on the door again, this time less forceful, gentler. He had called him several times during the day, Wonwoo letting voicemail record his voice. He was worried about him – when wasn’t he? – and wanted to know if he was doing alright. Wonwoo had been skipping classes lately. He was insomniac at night and fast asleep during the day. He wasn’t living his life anymore, or a life, for that matter. He would sleep forever, if his eyes let him.

“I’m coming in, okay?” Soonyoung warned, his tone low and warm and a balm to Wonwoo’s hurt.

He unlocked the door as foretold, getting inside quietly. The lights had been turned off for a while now, Wonwoo’s soul asking to be kept in darker conditions. Light and brightness felt foreign, and he had to adjust to the little sun taking place in his room, dropping his things on the desk and getting in bed next to him. Soonyoung brushed his bangs off his eyes, looking into them with such intensity he could get sunburnt. Or melt.

“How are you?” He asked, his hand resting on the side of Wonwoo’s face. “I missed you.”

“Could be better,” Wonwoo replied. “I missed you, too.”

“Wonwoo.” This was Soonyoung’s serious adult voice. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know, Soon.” And he did know. Sleepless nights told him the same. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do something about it.”

Wonwoo didn’t reply. He raised his hand and let it rest over Soonyoung’s cheek, mirroring the boy lying with him. They stayed like this, silent, but in the presence of each other, words weren’t needed. Their bodies next to each other told much more.

Soonyoung knew it from Wonwoo’s fingertips, how much it hurt to feel, how much it hurt to breathe with all that suffocating sadness. Wonwoo knew it from Soonyoung’s fingertips, how hard it was to watch from afar, how hard it was to witness the fall of a friend without being able to bring him back up.

“He’s not coming back, is he,” Wonwoo muttered, blinking rapidly. Junhui was dead. Junhui was dead, and there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could have done. Junhui wouldn’t come to him, tell him he was alright, tell him he could breathe now too. Tell him he did well, tell him it wasn’t in vain, tell him he was happy and he could be, too. Wonwoo would never get to hold him, tell him he was sorry, tell him in another life, he would have saved him. Make him smile and laugh and feel alive again.

“Wonwoo,” Soonyoung whispered, thumbs wiping silent tears again. It was almost routine; Wonwoo cried, Soonyoung brought comfort. It was unfair, imbalanced, but necessary, appeasing. Soonyoung didn’t mind being his rock through hard times; Wonwoo didn’t mind being this vulnerable in front of him. For each other, they’d do anything, be anything, mean anything.

Soonyoung brought their forehead together, his breathing ragged. He was crying too. He tried to be strong, he really did. But when it came to Wonwoo, he couldn’t pretend anymore. “Where are you, Wonu? What happened? Who did this to you?”

Wonwoo inhaled, and Soonyoung followed. He would have laughed at their synchronisation, in another world. At another time. They would laugh again together, sooner than they both thought, and it would take time, but they would get there again. “He didn’t mean to hurt me. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Don’t let him take you from me, Jeon Wonwoo,” he choked, and Wonwoo could feel both their hearts breaking.

“No one could ever hold such power, Kwon Soonyoung.”

 

 

 

5\. acceptance

 

Wonwoo had never bought flowers for anyone before. There was a first for everything. He had never been to a cemetery either, but this day would be full of firsts. His hand reached out toward the stone, fingers tracing the engravings.

_Wen Junhui, June 10, 1996 – March 17, 2018._

No description, no quote, no ‘ _beloved_ ’, nothing. A cold stone rising from the ground, a name and dates, and now, a bouquet of flowers decorating the sad tombstone.

 _Keep it simple_ , had said Soonyoung before they crossed the portal, hand in hand. _Introduce yourself. It’ll be easier than you think_. He let go then, leaving Wonwoo alone on his knees, ready to pour his heart out to his pain.

He took a deep breath. He didn’t feel ready. He didn’t think he would ever be. He had to try. “Hi, I guess. Fuck, I’m sorry. This is weird. I apologize. Let me start back up again.

“Hi, Wen Junhui. Jun. I’m Wonwoo, Jeon Wonwoo. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. But by some strange turn of events, I’ve been assigned to mourn you.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner. I’m sure we could have been good friends. I’m sure you were a nice person, unfortunate, yes, but good. Deserving of more than a stranger caring too late.

“But I’m here now. I hope this amounts to something. Wherever you are, up in the sky, down below, I’ve never truly believed in anything, but I hope you’re doing fine. I hope you’re better. I hope there’s people to care for you. I hope you’re happy.

“I think I’m getting better too, if you’re wondering. You don’t hurt as much as you used to. I can breathe a bit better. I sleep better. I’m going back to class. You’ll hurt for a little more, but not for long. I know that. I have Soonyoung to help me with that.

“You would have loved Soonyoung. Everyone loves him. He’s too kind for his own good. He cares too much and I ask him to stop, but he can’t. I hate that he invests himself like this, but I also like that he cares with his whole heart. It’s a bit selfish of me, is it? Wanting him to care about me. But I don’t even have to ask. He does it anyway. He’s been keeping me afloat all this time. He’s the greatest person I’ve ever met. You would have loved him. And I love him too.”

A hand carefully squeezed his shoulder. Wonwoo put his hand atop Soonyoung’s.

“This isn’t goodbye, Junhui. I’ll come back. I’ll bring you more flowers. I can’t let you go all sad. Plus, flowers are pretty. They smell good. They’re comforting. They mean more than words could ever. I’m thinking I should buy some for Soonyoung too. Would that be a good idea, Jun?”

He took Soonyoung’s hand off his shoulder and brought it to his lips, gently kissing his knuckles. He blushed at his own cheesiness, but it felt right, oh, so right.

“I’ll come back, Jun. Sleep well.”

And he would come back. Every week, at dusk, he’d bring a flower and watch the sunset with him, and he’d talk his head off, about school, about life, mostly about Soonyoung, but also about the world, what he was missing, what he would have loved. He’d watch the sunset for them both, and every time he would leave, he would never say goodbye, because he’d always come back.

Wonwoo got up, brushing dirt off his knees, and looked down to Soonyoung. Their eyes held a silent conversation, full of everything they might one day say in words.

“You look like you need a drink,” Soonyoung chuckled, taking back Wonwoo’s hand in his. They walked together back to the entrance, leaving Junhui to sleep, their hearts full.

“I’m down for Chinese food and lots of alcohol,” he agreed, his smile mirroring Soonyoung’s. Together, they were one.

“You want to forget that much?” he laughed. Wonwoo’s favourite song.

“I don’t want to forget,” Wonwoo said. “I want to remember. I want to toast to his life, and I want to remember us as we celebrate him. And us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. We made it through.”

“You made it through, Wonwoo.”

“I did, yeah. Because of you.”

“Don’t praise me too much, Wonwoo.”

“You deserve it. I’ll toast to you, Kwon Soonyoung.”

“And I’ll toast to you, Jeon Wonwoo. And to Wen Junhui.”

Wonwoo raised an invisible glass. “To Wen Junhui?”

Soonyoung did the same, looking into his eyes again. They could never get bored of each other’s eyes. They could never get bored of each other.

“To Wen Junhui.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading, i love u, good night good day
> 
> \--- 180331 ---


End file.
